In the first grade I studied second grade subjects. In second grade I took third grade subjects. Same in fourth grade. I was in Gifted and Talented and my ITBS scores were in the ninety-ninth percentile. “She’s an amazing student”, “There’s a bright future ahead for this one”, “I swear she’s smarter than me sometimes!” comments flowed from the mouths of my teachers and I enjoyed every word. I didn’t have to work to do well in school, any knowledge that was spoken to me somehow absorbed into that little eight year old mind and it stuck permanently. When other kids struggled with their multiplication tables or their long division, they would ask me for help and I would get frustrated because they wouldn’t be able to keep up with how fast my head was producing an answer. Of course my parents were happy when i would come home with A+ after A+, but it became something that they expected.
Fear of commitment is often described as a person’s fear of exactly what they need, or what will make them successful. It’s often associated with relationships, but it also can apply to everyday life. In seventh grade I learned what it was to struggle with school. For the first time in my life, a subject, algebra to be specific, wasn’t clicking. It was like that sponge in my head that soaked up any fact that was spit out at me was bone dry.
“You just have to apply yourself”, “Did you study tonight?”, “It’s a phase, she’ll get over it.” They were burned into my skull, replaying over and over like tacky elevator music. At that point I stopped caring as much. Obviously I cared and was conscious of my grades, but now only to an extent. “What’s the point?” I thought to myself, “If I don’t get it, I don’t get it and no amount of studying is going to help that.” This attitude filtered into the rest of my classes, not just math anymore. I stopped putting effort into whatever didn’t come naturally. I put down answers on tests I knew were wrong, but hey, it was better than leaving it blank. This is where the commitment phobia comes in. Putting in extra work to get my grade up would mean progression, and for some reason that idea terrified me.
My parents still viewed me as their perfect child who hung spelling bee and science fair certificates up on her wall. They still looked at me and saw a little girl who wanted to go to Harvard, study law and politics, and become president one day. With each failing letter grade received I felt the disappointment radiating from their eyes and it wrapped itself around my neck, threatening to choke me. “We’re always here to help”, my mom said. “You can do this, I know those answers are in your head”, my father spoke to me. I didn’t believe them. I didn’t want to do any worse, but in my heart I honestly felt that I couldn’t do any better.
I resented everyone whose sponge wasn’t dry like mine. Everyone who didn’t have to study and still produce a 100% on a quiz. I resented everyone who was exactly the way that i used to be. I used to be able to do that. My parents still expected me to be able to do that. How come I had to study for hours on end just to produce a passing grade. I would never feel a love for learning again. The idea of school made my stomach turn and the constant threat of failure gnawed at me at the worst possible times; laying in bed at 2am, and when a test was placed in front of me, the black and white print typed neatly, questions and problems that appeared to spell out my doom. I couldn’t do better, I wouldn’t, actually, because doing better meant expectations. I used to love expectations, it meant that someone believed in you enough to anticipate something excellent from you. But I didn’t believe in myself anymore. Excellence is something you can achieve, but it’s almost impossible and once you have achieved it, where do you go? Down. There is no where else to go but down and I knew that first hand. But I couldn’t let myself do worse either. So I made no movement at all.
I procrastinated, feeling swamped, pressured, and trapped. Anyone reading this could probably be thinking to themselves, “Oh she’s just lazy” or, “She’s unmotivated,” and I wouldn’t blame you. From any parent, teacher, or outsider’s perspective that’s exactly what it looked like. But for me, it was something deeper. Within a fear of commitment, is the fear of failure. A little voice was always humming in my ear, you’ll never be that smart again. I felt that no matter how hard i tried i could never learn as easily as i used to, and i couldn’t bear to disappoint my parents anymore. Basically I just stopped trying.
The future terrified me as well. The idea of going to college and committing to a job for the rest of my life made my head spin. What if I chose the wrong college? What if I hated my career choice? That ‘stuck-in-a-rut’ feeling was what I feared. I was so scared to progress that in my head i just stopped moving at all.
I don’t remember the exact date of my realization. That sounds cheesy, my “realization”, but that’s because it was cheesy. This day was practically as movie-cliched as you can get. I don’t remember if sunshine was streaming through the window or if rain poured from the sky in sheets that day. But I woke up and it was one of those mornings where you knew it was going to be a good day. Nothing extraordinary occurred, but one little thing made my day. I got a 96 on one quiz that I was sure I was going to fail. And for a second the little girl whose confidence never wavered in the face of academic challenge ignited inside of me. My sponge wasn’t dry yet, i had just refused to use it. It was like a switch was flipped on in my head. I knew I got lucky, but sometimes that’s all you need, a little bit of luck to give you a boost of confidence. I didn’t feel like i had to settle and be average anymore.
The cure for fear of commitment is simple. You have to believe in yourself that you’re worthy of that A+, or whatever it is that you’re preventing yourself from achieving. It doesn’t matter how many times people tell you that ‘you can do it’ if you don’t believe it yourself. Someday I want to go to college. And then some day after that i want to have a decent sized house on a large plot of land. Somehow while i was getting handed these below-average grades, i still expected to one day have exactly what i envisioned in my head. Anyone in tune with the real world knows that is not the case. In the past, you could say that reality wasn’t hitting me, i had come to terms with the fact that below-average was my new norm, and that is exactly the type of thinking that commitment phobia influences on you.
There are still days when i wake up and i can’t force myself to sit up straight and pay attention in class. What’s one day of late homework gonna do? I think to myself. This test doesn’t even matter, you wouldn’t have passed it anyways… Also crosses my mind. This is the time to snap out of it. One underachieving day will soon become two, then a whole week and a new vicious cycle will evolve. I remind myself that excellence is absolutely achievable and there is no rule written anywhere that says that once you’re at the top you have to plummet. I’ve learned that there really is no peak to your own excellence. Nowadays I find it easier to reach for my goals. Each one accomplished is a new achievement that reminds me progress is what makes you successful, and success is for everyone.